Deductions and Molly Hooper
by ISherlockedSherlock
Summary: One Molly Hooper meets the mysterious Sherlock Holmes. You might recognise someone else in this one...
1. First Meeting

Molly Hooper wasn't particularly brave. She worked in a morgue, sure, but she wasn't brave. She didn't like people much unless they were lying on a slab. Living people ridiculed her a lot. She was the lonely thirty-something who curled up with her cat instead of a man every evening. Innocent, naïve, optimistic Molly.

Tonight had been a particularly hard shift. She'd had to open up a couple of people she'd known who'd been recently murdered. Turns out it was poison. She felt bad for the family; they were some of the few people who were actually nice to her. She'd walked home lost in her own thoughts.

'Hello.'

Molly jumped a mile and twirled on the spot. Her brain registered something tall and black. And then the voice; someone had said hello. She followed coat buttons up to the speaker's face. _Pale, like the dead in the morgue. But that hair! All curly and thick and I'm not sure why I'm thinking this, but-_

'Excuse me. I don't have time for you to stand gawking.'

'Right! Um… sorry, I'm-'

'Molly Hooper, 33, single, lives with one cat, sentimental,

modest and lonely.'

'How did you-'

'Obvious. You work at Barts, I go in there a fair bit, I've seen you. Plus you're wearing your id badge still. The date of birth tells me you're 33, unless you're lying, but why would you, you have no-one to impress. Single; you aren't wearing a wedding or engagement ring which rules out any strong relationship bond, you aren't wearing makeup so you aren't trying to impress anyone, I know you live with a cat because you have cat hairs on your trouser cuffs and the hem of your jumper; he's a house cat then. I say he because you smell very strongly of cat and it's a well known fact that males are more pungent than females. You're sentimental because you have a locket around your neck, possibly from a past boyfriend, more likely from your mother. You're modest; your shoulders slump and you're nervous so you have low self esteem. I know you're lonely because you had no idea where to look first when you saw me; interested then. How did I know that? I'm Sherlock Holmes, the world's only Consulting Detective, I get consulted when the police are in deep water, which, of course, is always.'


	2. Handle Some More

'I-What? Who are you, really? Are you some kind of… I dunno-'

'Mmm. I seem to have that effect on people. You, Molly, would never do. You're far too nervous and innocent to be of any real use to me.'

She looked affronted. She was perfectly reasonable as a person, thank you very much. She didn't really see how a lack of innocence was a bad thing, she saw plenty of girls wearing barely anything, flirting openly and- _oh._ That wasn't what he meant. She blushed deeply. Sherlock Holmes sighed.

'As usual, the wrong impression. Why must women believe I am interested in anything like that?'

'Because you're-' She blushed deeper. He stared at her face, trying to read it.

'Yes?'

'N-nevermind.'

'I have a case to crack Molly Hooper, run along.'

'No.'

'What?'

'I won't. I'm a pathologist, I can be of some use.'

'You may be right. Listen, I was talking to a woman, Mrs Hudson, about a flat on Baker Street. What do you think?'

'It's a bit sudden, isn't it?'

'If you're going to help me on cases and be of any use I need you close at hand. Can't go off on a case with you halfway across London. I must tell you that I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I'll just sit in the quiet. Other times, I won't have noticed your absence and will continue to talk. Is that alright with you? Of course it is. The cat can't come with you.'

'I- I… won't people talk? A man and a woman moving in together, people are going to talk.'

'Of course they're going to talk. Let them.'

'This could ruin my career, Mr Holmes!'

'Fine. Fine Molly Hooper. You just turn around, right now, return to your poky little flat with your cat and your romance novels. Forget you met me. Pretend I never existed.'

'You can't expect me-'

'Yes I can. You're a pathologist. You're around the dead all the time, in the still and the quiet. You want to be out there, living, being alive, feeling the adrenaline. You've seen some violent deaths. I'm sure you could handle some more.'


	3. Not A Couple

Molly didn't quite understand. She was stepping out of a cab on Baker Street, woolly hat and mittens protecting her from the cold. She paid the driver and mounted the steps to 221B.

'Mr Holmes? Hello?' She pushed open the door. 'Hello?'

'Oh, hello dear. You must be Molly Hooper, Sherlock's told me all about you!' Molly was surprised to see a spritely old woman at the door. _Must be Mrs Hudson. _

'Um, Hello. Are you Mrs Hudson?'

'Yes dear. Please, come on in, Sherlock will be along soon. I tell you, it's lovely that he's finally found someone to settle in with, you know? He gets lonely, all on his own…'

She stepped through into a mess. Skulls blotted the wallpaper, there was a _real _skull on the mantelpiece and she could just make out a lab-like kitchen.

'Mrs Hudson, we're not-'

'Oh, don't worry dear. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Of course, Sherlock can… be a bit of a h_andful_ you see, it's good he has someone to keep him in check!'

Molly sighed. She had a horrible realisation; was she just a handler, there to keep Sherlock in check, did she actually count for anything? She perched on the sofa and waited.

'_Mrs Hudson!'_

'Sherlock! Come through, Molly's here.'

Molly smiled to herself at the genuine affection in their voices. A tone she hoped she'd hear directed at her, one day. She watched as he strode in like he owned the place.

'Molly.'

'Mr Holmes.'

'Oh, call me Sherlock, please. 'Mr Holmes' is so… archaic.'

'Right, Sherlock. Okay.' She smiled brightly at him. He regarded her steadily as he approached the sofa.

'Scoot over.'

'What?'

He made a shooing motion. She retreated to the far end of the sofa. Sherlock flopped down and swung his feet up, settling them on her lap.

'Sherlock, what're you doing?'

'Helps me think.'

'What?'

'Are you deaf, Molly, or just idiotic? Lying on the sofa helps me to think.'

'Well, I can-'

'No.'

'How did you know what I was going to say?'

'You shifted your weight.'

Molly started when she heard Mrs Hudson's 'Woo-oo!'

'I'll leave you to it, dears.' She retreated to her flat.

Molly glanced accusingly at Sherlock. To her annoyance, his eyes were shut and he appeared to be utterly ignoring her.

'She thinks we're a couple, Sherlock.'

'Well of course she does,' he replied, opening his eyes to look at her. 'That's what people believe, isn't it? Everybody is going to assume that, Molly. Does that bother you?'

'Would you care if it did?'

'No.'

'Then yes, it does.'

'Why?'

'Because I've known you for one day! _One day! _Why didn't you pick someone else?'

'You don't want to work with me. Alright. No one does. I'm far too clever.'

'Oh shut up,' Molly snapped. He stared. 'I'm… sorry. I don't know where that came from.'

'You're attracted to me, so you're angry, because it isn't reciprocated.' It was her turn to stare.

'How could you possibly-' she spluttered 'I've known you a day! So far you've been arrogant and cruel! For somebody who is so clever, you're remarkably ignorant, Sherlock.' She tried to move, but realised his legs were still stretched out across her lap. 'Excuse me, Sherlock.'

He swung his legs down and stormed into the kitchen. He came back a couple of minutes later, a steaming mug of coffee in each hand.

'Thanks. I'm sorry.'

'No, Molly. I shouldn't have done that. I'll put an ad in the paper tomorrow.'

'Why?'

'You aren't going to move in.'

'Why not?'

'Because I live here.'

'Don't you want me here?'

'Well…'

'Woo-oo!' Mrs Hudson was back. 'Molly, dear, I've tidied Sherlock's room for you. I'm sure you'll both manage fine.' Molly choked on her coffee. 'Did I say something wrong, dear?'

'N-no. I mean, me and Sherlock, we won't… um. We won't be sharing a- a room, Mrs Hudson.'

As she left, Sherlock chuckled darkly.

'What?'

'Ah, Molly. Molly Hooper. I could hear the hope in your voice _so clearly. _I do hope this won't affect your professional judgement?'

She glared at him. 'Shut up Sherlock. That wasn't _hope. _You're just cocky…' She blushed. 'I can't believe she thought that. Why would- with you, no less, god… no. It's obvious from a mile away that you don't… do that sort of thing.'

'Not really my area.' He conceded.

'Have you ever had a girlfriend?'

'No.'

'Boyfriend?'

'No. Look Molly, I'm flattered, but-'

'Stop doing that.'

'What?'

'Assuming I fancy you.'

'Well, you do.'

'I don't!'

He smirked.

'SHERLOCK!' Molly started as a man shouted from downstairs. 'YOU'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE!'

'I'm busy!' Sherlock called back.

'THERE'S A NOTE THIS TIME!'

The glee on his face was incredible. He seized Molly by the shoulders.

'Your first case, Molly! Four serial suicides and a note!' He actually laughed. She smiled nervously.

'I'm not sure I want to…'

'Oh come on, Molly Hooper. 33, single, _desperate _for a bit of adventure. You'll come with me. For a couple hours, you'll feel useful, like you're worth something.'

She was out the door before him.

The crime scene was crawling with police. The ride there had been tense; Molly felt hurt and angry that Sherlock thought she was worthless.

'Freak's here!' A frizz haired woman shouted.

'Freak?' Molly asked, as they approached the barrier.

'Yes. They don't understand what I do.'

'And what's that?'

He grinned at her.

'I outsmart everyone in the room.'


	4. Colleagues

Sherlock strode forward, towards the woman behind the tape.

'Got another one, upstairs. Lestrade will show you up.' She smirked at her clever wordplay. Molly hovered behind the tape, uncertain. Sherlock rolled his eyes, lifting it so she could pass underneath.

'Come on, Molly. There's a case to solve!'

'Oh, um… are you sure, Sherlock? I mean I'm not-'

'Nonsense. Come on.'

'Whoa, freak, wait a minute. Who's she?'

'Sally Donovan, are you jealous?'

She scoffed. 'Hardly. So,' she said, appraising Molly, 'you're his new plaything, are you?'

'I-' Molly squeaked. Stronger, she said 'I'm not his plaything. I'm his-'

'Colleague.' Sherlock interjected.

Sally smirked. 'Oh, I bet she is…'

'Ah, Anderson. Our resident idiot.' Sherlock swept away towards the smaller man.

'Shut it, Holmes.'

Sherlock sniffed. 'Eugh. Molly, come here,' she scurried over, 'does that smell like… perfume to you?'

Molly could smell it. Sweet, floral and slightly sickly, the same perfume Donovan was wearing, in fact.

'Yes. Sergeant Donovan's wearing it, isn't she?'

Anderson blushed violently. 'What are you implying?'

'Oh, I don't know,' Sherlock drawled easily 'a nice cosy meal in your flat, curled up on the sofa watching trashy TV… oh dear me, Anderson. _Look _at the state of Donovan's nails, there are traces of skin there. And her _knees._ Goodness me. What were you doing….?' He turned slightly to wink at Molly. She giggled.

'I- we- stay out of it!' He spluttered.

'Sherlock! This way.'

'Ah, Lestrade. Keep your sniffer dog on a lead, will you?' He grabbed Molly's hand and towed her behind him as he swept into the building.

Molly looked around. The woman on the floor was sprawled out. Besides the fact that she was dead, she looked immaculate in a pink suit jacket and dress, with pink heels, nails and lips.

'Sherlock…?'

'Go on Molly. See what you can figure out.'

Molly crouched beside the body. She noted ragged nails, but that was really it.

'Her nails, they… um, they're all ragged. She was nervous, or- something.'

'Well done Molly. You missed almost everything.'

He began to explain at warp speed, and Molly just zoned out.

'Molly? Molly! We have to go.'

'Mmm?' She was shaken from her torpor. Sherlock's eyes were boring into her. He put a hand on the small of her back to guide her out.

'Stay away from Sherlock Holmes!' The snide tones of Sergeant Donovan reached Molly's ears. 'He'll use you. He'll take your heart and rip it apart, you just watch. When he gets bored… you'll be a broken woman, Molly Hooper.'

'I will not. I don't care what happens, what grudge you have against him, all I know is that he is the best thing that's happened to me. So shut up.' She turned to him, but he was gone.


	5. Forgive Me

Molly was worried that night. Had Sherlock really just left her? She'd hailed a cab and was in her slippers and kitty pyjamas, sipping a coffee to keep herself awake. _Just text him. Just text. It's just a text!_

Sherlock, where are you?  
>-Molly x<p>

I'm not far. Following a lead.  
>-SH<p>

It's getting late. I'm worried. Hurry up.  
>-Molly<p>

Soon.  
>-SH<p>

_Well, fine_. She shuffled off to bed. She still hadn't fully sorted through her room; boxes lined the walls and her wardrobe was only half full. _Damn. _She forgot her phone… _if Sherlock needs me…_ she went back to retrieve it. One new message.

Molly. Need your help. I'm at Bart's.  
>-SH<p>

Why?  
>-Molly<p>

Just do it! Danger!  
>-SH<p>

What? Sherlock are you okay?  
>-Molly<p>

Cabbie. Killer. Got me.  
>-SH<p>

Molly shoved her phone in her pocket, ran outside and hailed a cab. She was there in minutes. _Please let it be enough. _

'Sh-Sherlock? Where are you? What's going-'

'Sit down and shut up.' She felt a gun press to the back of her head. She did as she was told. The man walked out in front of her. Old, glasses, frail looking. Not your typical killer. But in his hand…

'Sherlock's phone! Where is he, tell me where he is!'

The man chuckled.

'He's long gone, sweetheart. Already dead. Now, me and you, we're going to play a game. And you're going to die. It's painless, honestly.' He held up two pills in bottles.

'Oh, how cliché. You give her the poison, she dies and it's told as a suicide.'

Molly was elated. She couldn't believe it. Was it a trap? Sherlock snatched the gun from the man's hands, tossing the pills to the floor.

'Well, not on my watch,' Sherlock growled. 'Get out of here, or I promise I will _make _you beg for death. You see, this isn't a real gun. You're defenceless.'

'No, but this one is.' The man drew another from his inside pocket, clicked the catch and trained it on Sherlock.

'NO!' Almost before she knew what she was doing, Molly had launched herself forward, forcing his arm down and shoving the gun into his gut. It went off. Blood splattered her and Sherlock as the man lay with his belly blown open.

'Give me a name. Who's making you do this?' Sherlock murmured.

'…Never…tell!'

'Fine. I still have time to make you hurt.' And he stuck his hand into the gaping wound and latched on. The man howled. Sherlock squeezed, primal fury on his face. 'A NAME!'

'M-MORIARTY!' Dead. Molly stared at Sherlock. She'd never seen him like that, so inhuman. He offered her his hand, the one not slick with blood.

'Molly… I'm sorry. Forgive me.' She took it.


	6. Anger Issues

'…I think he has anger issues. He just… went mad. Stuck his hand in the wound without thinking. He needs help. He needs a psychiatrist. He doesn't have the same empathy as other people. I'm afraid for him. You've got to help.'

'I'll do what I can, Miss Hooper. Call me if he does anything violent. I'll be in touch soon.'

'Thank you, Doctor Watson.'

'Where have you been?' Molly was accosted by Sherlock the moment she re-entered the flat.

'Nowhere important, Sherlock. Do you want a cup of tea?'

'Don't lie to me, Molly Hooper,' he growled, looming over her. 'I can deduce _exactly_ where you've been. You're dressed smart, so it _was _somewhere important. You're wearing lipstick; you wanted to make an impression. Your hair is tied differently. You smell like hospital.' He sniffed her hair.

'Sherlock, I _work_ in a hospital-'

'Stop. Lying. You smell clean. Sterile. Not like the morgue. You've been to see a psychiatrist. About me.'

'No-'

'Yes,' he breathed, 'you believe I'm a danger to myself. A danger to you. Take a look around this flat, Molly Hooper. I keep human body parts in the fridge. The kitchen is a lab. There's a knife on the mantelpiece and eyes in the microwave. I have books on kicking addiction. All the signs, warning you to stay away. You moved in with me after a few hours.' His face twisted into a sort of cruel smile.

'No, shut up Sherlock, you aren't like that. I've seen what people like that _do._ They kill for fun. I know you wouldn't do that. You stopped that cabbie from killing me.'

Quietly, Sherlock murmured, 'What if I just wanted to do it myself?'

'I don't believe you.'

'If you don't believe that, why are you backing away?' he grabbed her wrist. She flinched. 'Your pulse is elevated. You're afraid of me.'

'Sherlock, shut up, you're being an idiot.'

'Oh, Molly. Don't you realise? You were _so easy _to string along. The most I had to do was _look _at you and I could get you to do anything I wanted.'

She was in tears now. 'Stop it Sherlock, just stop it.' She pulled away sharply, turned on her heel, and walked out.

'Doctor John Watson speaking, how can I help you?'

'D-doctor. It's M-Molly Hooper. I need your h-help. It's Sherlock. He says he wants to kill me. I don't believe it. He needs help. _I _need help. I'm not in the flat now. He knows I came to see you. I'm afraid he'll find me.'

'Right, Molly. I think you should come in for a chat, okay? I'm fully booked right now, but I'll come and visit you later at your address if you'd like?'

She gave Doctor Watson her address and tried to concentrate on the papers in front of her. She was back in the morgue, half working, half on high alert for any sign of Sherlock.

'Right then… Molly.' Her stomach flipped. Molly Luxon was the next body on her list. Then Isabelle Aven, then Jackson Hooper. 'You're just seeing things. Molly and Hooper are common names. Chill, Molly. You'll see the doctor later.'

Molly was relieved to hear the doorbell that night. She half wished she had taken Donovan's advice and stayed away from Sherlock Holmes. Now, after a single day, she was seeing the danger. He really was a psychopath. She imagined him turning up at her flat in the middle of the night, waking her from fitful sleep and-

'Miss Hooper!' It was Doctor Watson. She opened the door with shaking hands.

'S-sorry doctor. Come in. would you like some tea?'

'Yes, thank you. Milk, no sugar.'

'Sweet enough?' He smiled at her gently. 'I'm sorry… I don't know why I said that. I've been on edge all day.'

'It's perfectly understandable, miss Hooper.' Molly shuffled off to her kitchen, trying to find the least feminine mug for Doctor Watson to use.

'Call me Molly, please, doctor. And please, make yourself at home.'

'Then I insist you call me John, Molly.' He sat on the sofa and Molly's cat Toby immediately leapt onto his lap, purring as John scratched behind his ears.

'Here's your tea,' she said softly, 'he likes you.'

'Thank you Molly. He's a lovely cat, what's his name?' He sipped his tea. 'Mmm. Lovely.'

Molly's cheeks went pink. 'He's called Toby. Normally he's awful to strangers…' she sat on the chair opposite the sofa, a little nervous.

'Molly, please, I don't bite.' John grinned and patted the seat beside him. She apologised and sat beside him. 'Now, I don't usually do consultations like this. Tell me about Sherlock, Molly, what was he like when you first met him?'

'He was… odd. In a good way- I thought he was fascinating. I wanted to see what his life was like. As soon as he met me he read me like I was an open book. It was mad; he could tell I had Toby-' she gestured to the cat, now curled up contentedly in John's lap- 'just from the hair on my trousers and the way I smelled. He could tell I was single, too. Desperate, he said.'

'You don't seem desperate to me. Tell me about the case you accompanied him on.'

'Oh John it was awful. _Awful._ This old cabbie lured me out to Bart's, put a gun to my head and told me I was going to die. He had these little pills. And then Sherlock turned up and I was _so happy… _that's when it happened. Sherlock took his gun and claimed it was a fake, but the cabbie pulled a real one from his coat. I don't know what made me do it, I just… I-'

'It's okay, Molly. Take your time.'

'I forced his arm down. It went off in his gut,' she said in a small voice. 'Blood was everywhere; he had a massive wound in his stomach. Sherlock asked him who put him up to it, the killings. The cabbie wouldn't tell him. So he… Sherlock just shoved his hand into the wound, and the cabbie yelled 'Moriarty' and died. Sherlock was furious. That's when I knew I had to get help. So I called you.'

John set down his now empty mug. Hesitantly, he took her hands, looking earnestly into her face. 'Molly, don't you worry. Right? We'll sort this out. Sherlock isn't going to hurt you, I can promise you that. I'm just on the other end of the phone. Here,' he pulled a card from his breast pocket, 'take this. This has my phone number, email and address. Visit me if you feel the need.'

'Could you, um, could you come here instead?'

'Of course, Molly. Will you be alright tonight? Do you want me to stay?'

'Oh! No, I'd never do that to you. It could cost you your job! Besides, you've got a family at home I imagine, you should go back to them.'

John gave her a small smile. 'No actually. I don't have a family waiting for me. Nobody seems to want a war veteran. As for my job… keeping my patients, clients, whatever you want to call them- keeping them safe is my job.'

'Oh but still, people might talk-'

'Alright, Molly. I'll be off then. Remember, if you ever need me I'm just a phone call away.' He set Toby on the sofa gently, stood up and Molly followed him to the door.

'Goodnight, John. Thank you.'

He smiled. 'Goodnight, Molly. Sleep tight.'


	7. Ultimatum

'Molly.' The voice was familiar, deep and dangerous. 'Molly…' it had shifted. In the darkness, she felt the presence of the speaker, circling her. She watched as the light illuminated the face; high cheekbones, piercing, imperious gaze, set mouth. It was Sherlock. His voice was soft, she felt a sense of calm as he neared her, slowly. There was a glint of light; a knife in his hand. He smiled, and-

Molly gasped awake. Since her talk with Doctor Watson, _John_, she had been having nightmares about Sherlock. Every time she went to work, she dreaded finding him. Every night, she would attempt sleep, but she would instead be haunted by Sherlock. It was getting too much. She grabbed her phone, dialling John's number.

'Mmm. Hello? Who is this, it's 2am…'

'Doctor Watson, it's Molly Hooper. I'm sorry; I wouldn't call if it wasn't important…'

'Molly! I've told you, call me John… I'll- I'll be right over…'

Molly breathed a sigh of relief. If John was here, surely the nightmares would stay away? She busied herself with the kettle and coffee, until she heard John at the door. She opened it, coffee in hand, still in her pyjamas and dressing gown.

'Doctor Watson. Thank you so much for coming, I should have waited till the morning…'

'It _is _the morning, Molly. Thank you. And please, _call me John._' He accepted the coffee and shuffled to the kitchen table. Toby, who had been curled on the sofa, padded in to jump into John's lap.

'Oh dear. People are going to talk,' Molly mumbled, 'I'm sorry for doing this.'

'Let them, Molly.' John yawned. Molly stiffened and looked away. 'What's the matter?'

'Oh, um… he said that. That's all. Sherlock said that to me when I- when I moved in.'

'I'm sorry Molly. Is that what you called about? Sherlock?'

'Yes. I've been having nightmares. I keep seeing the same dream.'

'Explain it to me.'

'I'm just in some kind of room, it's really dark and I can barely see. I can't move. Every time, I can hear Sherlock's voice, calling me, coming closer and closer, circling me. And I feel this sort of calm when he talks, you know? And then I can see him and he smiles and raises a knife and then… I wake up.'

'This could suggest you're afraid of attack. It also suggests you're afraid you'll get sucked in by him again and he'll end up hurting you. There's a level of attraction there, still. You don't really want him to leave, he's the most exciting man you've ever met. I'm sorry to say this Molly… but you'll have to confront him.'

'I can't. I can't, John. He'll kill me.'

'Molly, I'll be there with you every step of the way. I was a soldier, I'll protect you. I'll call DI Lestrade for backup. I'll be just outside, I promise you.'

'A-alright.'

And so she steeled herself. That night, she returned home and wondered how she would do it. She opened the door- _left it unlocked, again_- and opened the living room door. Candles were lit, on every surface. The light was dim but she could just make out a figure sprawled nonchalantly on her sofa.

'Ah, Molly. I took the liberty of cooking dinner.' He gestured to the table, set for two.

'Get out. Get out of my flat, you maniac. I'll call the police.'

He laughed, a deep, dangerous laugh.

'It's just dinner.' His eyes flashed and he lets her glimpse his teeth.

'You broke in. Why are you here?'

He moved toward her, taking slow, deliberate steps. She didn't back down.

'Don't tell me you aren't glad I'm here. There's a lot to be said for attraction, isn't there? It makes people so easy to trap. Don't bother calling for help. DI Lestrade is dealing with a particularly difficult murder case and your friend John, who you've been getting dangerously close to, by the way- is _indisposed._'

'John,' She breathed. She couldn't see him hurt by her actions. 'Oh god, this is my fault…'

'There's no-one left for you, Molly Hooper. Just me.' He extended a hand to her and she imagined she saw blood all over them. She stared at it and then back to his face, imagining blood at the corners of his mouth. She couldn't trust him. He was insane.

'No. I don't believe you. Get out.'

He snapped, slamming her against the wall. She stared wide eyed as he hissed,

'If you want to see your precious John alive again, you're going to play along. Everyone must believe I'm dead. Too many murders have been put to my name. You're going to fake my death and then organise my passage out of the country. And then you'll do one more thing for me.'

'I won't, I won't!'

'I can see the headlines now. 'Molly Hooper, mild mannered pathologist, revealed as accomplice to deceased murderer Sherlock Holmes, kills herself. She couldn't take the guilt of knowing she helped him hunt his victims'. John will die if you don't obey me. Slowly and painfully. And you'll be next.'


	8. Double Cross

'John! John!' Molly was frantic; Sherlock had swept from her flat leaving nothing but his violin behind; he'd return to retrieve it, she knew. Right now though, she had to get to John. He had to be okay.

'M-Molly? What's the matter? Have you seen Sherlock?'

'Come over, quickly. As soon as you can!' She was close to tears.

'Molly, I'm sure it's fine, really. I told you, I won't let anything happen to you. Just calm down.'

'I can't calm down! You have to come over right now, please! Please just do as I ask!'

'Alright. Alright Molly. I'm coming over. Put the kettle on, please.'

He hung up. Molly's hands shook as she busied herself with the kettle. John knocked on the door. She wrenched it open and positively collapsed onto his neck, hugging him for all she was worth. She sobbed into his shirt.

'Molly! Molly, what's the matter?' He hugged her back just as tightly. When they broke apart, Molly sank into a kitchen chair, motioning for John to do the same.

'Sh-Sherlock. He said i-if I don't help him fake his death, get him out of the country and then commit suicide, he'll kill you and come after me.'

John took her hand. He looked into her face and said softly,

'Oh, hell Molly. I don't even know what to say. I'm afraid this has become personal… from now on, I have to talk to you as a friend, rather than as a psychiatrist. He threatened your life, that's a _huge _problem for me.'

'W-what about your job?'

'Screw my job. It doesn't matter that much to me compared to you being safe. Are you comfortable with that?'

'I guess so…'

'I care about you, Molly Hooper. More than I should. We've got to get you out of this.'

Molly placed her hand on top of the one holding hers. She leaned in a little, to gauge John's response. Her stomach dropped as he did the same, they were a hair's breadth away from sealing the deal- and the key turned in the lock. Molly's heart was thumping in her throat as she stared into John's eyes; he was just as afraid as she was.

'Am I interrupting something? Ah, John Watson. I suppose Molly has told you all about me. How I'm cold, calculating…' he leant down to whisper in Molly's ear, 'hard to resist.' She gulped and closed her eyes. She hated herself for realising he was completely accurate. He took her wrist in his long fingers, studying it disdainfully. Louder, he said 'her pulse is elevated. John, poor John… you've really got no chance. And you Molly, well… I'll be coming back. There's something for you to look forward to. Don't lead John on, it's indecent.'

Molly was fuming. She could feel rage rising inside her, a blinding hatred for Sherlock Holmes.

'I hate you,' she hissed, 'you monster. I would never, ever do anything for you. Not ever. You can go to hell.'

Sherlock chuckled. In a few swift movements, he aimed a knockout blow at John and clapped a soaked rag to Molly's mouth and nose.

'Breathe it in, there's a good girl. You'd be amazed at the methods I have for making people do what I want.' Molly struggled valiantly against the arm crushing her to him, but then she slumped.

'…Molly. Molly…'

Molly cracked open an eye. She was in a dim room and groggy.

'John?' She strained her eyes. She caught sight of high cheekbones and bright blue eyes in the half-light. It was all coming back. Sherlock had drugged her; she didn't know where she was.

'John is dead. There's no-one here to save you.'

'Sherlock?'

Molly listened. She could have sworn that was her voice, though she hadn't spoken.

'Not now, Molly… I'll deal with you later.'

'What the hell have you done?' Molly rasped. Sherlock bent down to stroke her face.

'I made a carbon copy of you. She was born from your DNA and a rapid aging process… she's what you could have been. She has my _undivided _attention and has grown to hate John Watson. She'd do anything I told her to. So, I told her to kill John. You should have seen the look on his face when he thought it was you… it was _utter heartbreak.'_

'You're a liar… I don't believe a word of it.'

Sherlock stood and flipped on the lights. Before Molly was a large screen with a video link. Sherlock played the video and Molly watched, horrified. She saw herself advancing on John, still in her flat, she noticed. He was teary eyed and pleading with her.

'Molly, what are you doing? Put the knife down. Is it Sherlock? Has he… brainwashed you or something? Please Molly. Damn it, I think I like you. Like, really like you. Say something. Please just say something!'

'Say goodbye, John.'

And then Molly, the real Molly, saw the point of the knife pierce his chest.

'NO!' She launched herself at Sherlock, hands fighting for grip about his throat. From behind she felt a sharp sting and fell limp into Sherlock's waiting arms.


	9. Bait

Molly awoke in her flat. She expected to find John, or at least his blood on the floor, but she found nothing. Instead, there was a box on her kitchen table, gift-wrapped. The tag read, _To my dear Molly, love from Sherlock x _she was afraid to open it; she knew what he was capable of. She pulled off the ribbon anyway and lifted a lid. Inside, wrapped in tissue, was a bloody heart. Molly ran to the loo to be sick. After a few moments she snatched up her phone to call DI Lestrade.

'Look, if you've got a problem, call Sherlock Holmes.'

'He is my problem.'

'What's your name?'

'Molly Hooper.'

'Miss Hooper, is this some kind of a joke? Sherlock is one of the most law-abiding men I know of. He can be a bit… _abrasive, _but surely-'

'He sent me a heart in a box.'

'Shit. Take it to Bart's and have a sample tested. Beyond that… you're on your own.'

She hung up; there was a knock at the door. Mrs Hudson.

'Oh, hello dear. Sherlock sent me to tell you-'

'Sherlock? You still talk to that madman?'

'Molly? He's been solving cases as usual… what's the matter?'

'He kidnapped me, cloned me and then sent my clone to kill John. Don't tell me you didn't know…?'

'But that's just it, dear. He told me to tell you to come over; important, he said. He's been at Baker Street this whole time, you know… he's got a new flatmate that I think you need to see…'

'This better not be a joke. I trust you, Mrs Hudson.'

And so, several minutes later, Molly found herself back in Baker Street. Mrs Hudson pushed open the door.

'Woo-oo! Sherlock dear, Molly's here.'

Molly shuffled into the flat.

'Molly.' Two voices spoke. She was rooted to the spot as the two men took in her dishevelled appearance. There were dark rings around her already puffy eyes, her hair was a mess and there were tear tracks on her face. One of them walked forward, touching her face softly as if to confirm she was really there. He crushed her into a hug.

'John. He told me he killed you. I watched you die…'

'I'm here, Molly. I think someone wants to see you.'

Molly broke away from him. She was immediately swept up into Sherlock's arms.

'Sherlock. Can't… breathe!'

He let her go.

'Molly, there's something you have to understand. The man that kidnapped you was a fake. A clone. I created him hoping I could send him out to solve cases somewhere else, but Moriarty got to him first. I'm sorry. He cloned you and John too. He has your DNA. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'

'His violin is still in my flat. He'll come back…'

'Molly, I'm sorry… but you have to do as he says. You have to play the game. Go to him, tell him you believe in him, tell him you've switched sides… that's the only way for us to be rid of him for good.'


	10. Operations and Actual First Dates

Molly waited. She felt sick to her stomach, knowing she was waiting for _him_ when t_heir _Sherlock- hers and Johns- was safe in 221B, bored out of his mind. She mulled over her new role in all their lives: Molly the Double Agent. She ran a list through her head of everything she would do to help Sherlock, the real one. She hated that she would have to do any of it in the first place, but if Sherlock 2.0 was going to talk her through his plans he had to believe she'd switched sides completely. _I'm doing this for Sherlock and John and Mrs Hudson and Lestrade and everyone at risk while that psycho is loose. He'll lead us to Moriarty. I hope. This better not all be for nothing…_

'Molly! Don't mind me, I'm just taking back… what's rightfully mine.'

_Oh, hell. Here goes…_

'Sherlock… there's something I need to tell you,' _you're an evil bastard and I would very much like you dead. _'I, um… I've-'

'Yes…?' He stepped up close to her. _Good. This will mean I won't be able to mess up my words. I can just… _Molly snatched a fistful of his shirt and kissed him, almost hungrily. _This isn't Sherlock, not him, not him, not him…_ she broke apart for air. He stood shocked for a second and then a smirk curved his lips. She'd done it.

'I knew you'd come around, Molly. You were always going to do this, I just wanted to give you the illusion of free will.' He kissed her.

_Idiot. How could you believe me so easily? _'You don't mean anything to me, Molly. Nobody does… this is all just a game.'

'I know that.'

'And yet you play it, knowing I will cut out your heart and throw it on the fire. Why?'

'You're Sherlock Holmes, the greatest mind there is, the most powerful man there is. Why else?'

He chuckled softly. 'A woman after my own heart.'

'I didn't think you had one.'

'I have… stirrings.'

'Do you work with anyone?'

'What?'

'Do you work with anyone? Any other powerful people, any other brilliant minds?'

'Molly… I'm not telling you my _deepest darkest secrets_, you might blab…'

'Who to? I don't have anyone except you, that's what you said, remember?'

'Except me.'

'Yes.'

'And John.'

'John is dead…'

'John is in 221B right now, with me and Mrs Hudson, drinking tea and waiting for you. There's a sniper outside their window and outside this flat, so don't go running to them. You foolish girl, do you honestly think I would believe you?'

'No, that's why I have a back-up plan. OPERATION SHERLOCKED, GO!' Molly screamed at the top of her lungs and watched as Lestrade, Donovan, Anderson and the rest of the force stormed her flat, pinning Sherlock down and cuffing him. She glimpsed Irene Adler among them and smiled. Mycroft had appeared at her shoulder.

'Ah, so this is the clone. Well done, Miss Hooper, you have succeeded in saving all of London from my brother. He's our responsibility now. The snipers were fake, you're free to visit two hundred and twenty one Baker Street now.'

'Thank you, Mycroft. I hope he'll be allowed visitors?' she nudged 'Sherlock' with her toe.

'Oh, yes.' He smiled knowingly.

With that, Molly hailed a cab.

'They've got him.'

'Yes, Sherlock.'

'This could have gone really wrong, you know that Sherlock? Molly's life could have been in danger!'

'But it wasn't. I know what I'm capable of.'

'Oh, boys! Behave! Molly dear, sit down and I'll make you a cup of tea.'

'Thank you, Mrs Hudson.'

'Molly, you were brilliant. You could have cracked, but you didn't, you got him.' John was very happy to have Molly back. They'd never have a normal life or a normal relationship with Sherlock as their best friend, but it was worth every second. Sherlock was happy, too. He'd actually hugged Molly when he came back, much to her complete surprise.

'John, didn't you have something to say to Molly?'

'Oh, yes… Molly, can I ask you to stay tonight?'

'Oh… um, well… if- if Sherlock and Mrs Hudson don't-'

'Don't worry, Molly. I'm taking Mrs Hudson out to dinner.'

'He's like the son I never had! Now, you and John have fun… _but don't wreck my flat_.'

Molly blushed scarlet and John shot her a sympathetic look.

'It's just dinner Mrs Hudson… it's all innocent.' John smiled at her reassuringly and said to Molly, 'There's no need for you to get changed, you're lovely as you are.'

Sherlock was shrugging on his coat and winding his scarf about his neck. 'Come on then Mrs Hudson, you look wonderful.' He smiled.

'Oh, thank you, Sherlock dear.' She took his offered arm and they left the flat, Mrs Hudson chatting away merrily about her day.


	11. Lock Me Up And Throw Away The Key

'You have one hour.'

'Thank you, Lestrade. He's secure?'

'He's not tied up or anything, but he has no weaponry and we're here. You'll be safe. This isn't usual protocol, but as you're working on a case…'

'Thanks.' Lestrade pushed open Sherlock's cell door and she stepped inside.

'Molly.' The venom and danger was still in his voice, despite his current position. Molly felt somewhat like she was trapped with a wild beast.

'Sherlock,' she said cooly, 'I need to know a few things. You know what happens if you don't co-operate.' Sherlock bared his teeth; he'd been tortured for weeks, but had said nothing. What's more, they'd used his- or rather, the _real_ Sherlock's- riding crop.

'You won't get anything out of me. You're on the losing side, Molly… such a pity. You'd be an asset to me.'

'I'm nothing to you and you're nothing to me, we're agreed on that.'

'Are you sure?' He backed her into the corner and her pulse quickened. He grinned wolfishly and backed away.

'You aren't real. You're not the real Sherlock. He'd never do this… toy with people like you are. We aren't here for your amusement Sherlock. We're human beings. You're not.'

'There's something he never learned. He was never interested. You've often wondered if he was… but he just used you. Me, on the other hand…'

'Shut up. Stop it. Now, tell me what I need to know.'

'For a price.'

'No, tell me or I swear I'll-'

'What? Kiss me to death?'

That did it. Molly drew back her arm and snapped it forward into Sherlock's jaw. She heard a crunch and he staggered back, furious.

'Miss Hooper! I can't condone that!' Lestrade called. He opened the cell door and cuffed her. 'I'm arresting you for grievous bodily harm with intent. You have the right to remain silent. You do not have to say anything but anything you do say may be given as evidence.'

'Lestrade! He might as well be a terrorist, he deserves it!'

'I think some time in the same cell will help you to make amends to Mr Holmes.'

'Lestrade, you're not serious, that can't be legal-'

'Regardless.' He uncuffed her and threw her into the cell at Sherlock's feet. She stood shakily. 'Get something to aid Sherlock, will you Donovan?'

'Sir.'

'Temper, temper Molly. You're becoming a lot like me…'

'I'm nothing like you,' she spat 'you're despicable.'

'And you were willing to go against everything you stand for to get information out of me. You must really love me…'

'John. I love John. You're… nothing. Less than nothing. I despise you. _Tell me what I need to know._ If you don't, they're be blood on my hands and don't think I care if I go down for it.'

'As I said before; for a price.'

Grudgingly, Molly said, 'What price?'

'Join me. You want excitement in your life, I can see that. You want to be better. You want to impress me, I can tell. Why else would you have such a mean streak?' He flashed a grin.

'You've got no chance. None.'

'Oh, Sherloooock!' Molly spun as a singsong, lilting voice met her ears. She knew that voice.

'_Jim?_' She said incredulously. Her old boyfriend was strutting up the corridor, hands in pockets.

'_Molly! _Goodness, isn't this just a _wonderful _surprise? I see you and Sherlock are getting along nicely. Oh! Oh, Molly, I must introduce myself properly. I never did tell you my surname when we dated, how rude of me,' he stuck his hand through the bars, 'James Moriarty, at your service.'

Molly paled. Jim pouted sadly and Sherlock chuckled.

'Aren't you happy to see me, Molly? Shame… I was hoping I could bail you out and we could go for tea!' He danced a little jig and then turned a serious face to Sherlock. 'Make sure she tells us everything we need to know, is that understood?'

'Yes, James.'

'What are you talking about?' Molly snapped.

Jim put his face very close to the bars and said, quietly, 'you are going to tell us about Sherlock and John and Mrs Hudson and Lestrade- well, the real one- so that we can destroy them all. You see, I can't let Sherlock live. And if he dies, it's only prudent for everyone else to die, too.'

'What if I refuse?'

'You won't. You see, Molly, I own London. I have a criminal network all across the city. I _own _you. I like to watch the little people dance for their freedom… but you… I own your soul! All I have to do is threaten Sherlock and your precious John and I'll have you jumping through hoops,' to Sherlock he added, 'happy interrogating.'


	12. Stay, Please

'…Molly? Hell what happened to you?' John Watson had opened the door to a battered and bruised Molly Hooper. He stood back to let her in.

'I… I went to see Sherlock. Lestrade isn't real. I punched Sherlock and broke his jaw and I was arrested and put in the same cell. Then Moriarty turned up. Jim. It was _Jim _John. And then… I was interrogated. Sherlock tortured me for hours. I never said anything, I promise. They're no closer to the real Sherlock. We need to sort this out, and quickly.'

John began tending the cuts and bruises on Molly's face. She had a split lip and a black eye.

'John! I got the milk. Have you heard from Molly?'

'She's in here, Sherlock.'

'Ah, Molly. I need to know if-' he caught sight of her. 'What happened? Tell me who did this.'

'You… the other you.' Sherlock's face fell and he strode forward and took her hands.

'Molly. I'm so sorry. So sorry. I will stop him, I promise.' He leaned in to hug her and she flinched.

'Sorry… I can't. I'm sorry Sherlock. I'll never be able to see you in the same light again. I think I have to get away… from you… and start a new life somewhere else. I might be able to get over it in time, but not now. I'm sorry. You- he- almost broke me. I can't. I can't.'

Sherlock's face shut down. 'I understand.'

'No,' she croaked, voice cracking, 'you'll never understand and I don't want you to,' she turned to John 'I'm sorry. It's over before we even got started and I am so sorry.'

'Molly… please don't leave. We can get through this, I promise. Come and live with me for a while, away from your flat and the bad memories and Sherlock- sorry Sherlock- and you can recover. I'll help you. I was a prisoner of war, I _understand _Molly. I get it. I'm a doctor, let me help. Please.'

'That would be best,' Sherlock said, 'I'm sorry Molly. I wish I could be different. Some time away from me is just what the doctor ordered.' He smiled sadly at John.

'Fine. Fine. John I'm sorry but I can't work… they might kidnap me again.'

'Molly don't worry. I won't let you starve, and I doubt Mrs Hudson will either. Sherlock, I'll visit. Don't go mad without me, will you?'

'I'll be lost without my blogger.'


	13. Accused

I'm sorry it's been so long; essays. Here's something tiny to ease myself back. I hope it's not to cruel of me. Enjoy!

'Sherlock. Sherlock, this is important.'

'No, John. _This _is important. Finding Molly alive and well is important.'

'Yes… well. I've, um. I know where she is. She's safe, away from you. You're a danger to her, do you get that? As long as you're around, her life is in danger. Just forget about Molly, for all our sakes. She's fine and she doesn't miss you.'

Sherlock had missed a vital piece of information. He, stupidly, believed it was the clone, but of course it wasn't. It was her, flesh, blood, bone torn and spilled and cracked like china. It wasn't fair; he wasn't himself. He wasn't-

'…Sherlock Holmes blogger detective living at 221B Baker Street is accused of murdering Molly Hooper, 33. Remains of a body were found in the residence.'


	14. I Owe You

'Molly… Molly darling, wake up now.'

Her eyelids fluttered open. Her breath caught.

'You! What have you done?'

'Ah, Molly. It's time for Sherlock to fall. But don't worry; falling's just like flying except there's a more… permanent destination.'


End file.
